


With Or Without You

by pikestaff (pikaslew)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: (but a surprising amount of backstory and feelings for a PWP one-shot), Established Relationship, F/M, Grey Warden Stamina, Happy loving relationship, Masturbation, Minor femdom, PWP, Pegging, Smut, Strap-Ons, peg the mage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikaslew/pseuds/pikestaff
Summary: Anders is lonely and starts wanking to thoughts of Hawke, as he is apt to do.  Hawke walks in on him and decides to have some fun.  (Hint: it involves making him come twice without touching his dick.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the DA Weird Shit Discord Chat's monthly theme challenge. This month's theme was pegging, and lemme tell ya, I am always up to #peg the mage.

Hawke wasn’t home when Anders started to touch himself. Which, for the record, is why he started to touch himself to begin with.

He wasn’t at the clinic that day-- rather, he was at home, writing his manifesto as he usually did when he wasn't working. But as the day went on he felt an obnoxious pressing _need_ rise inside of him, and despite Justice’s best attempts to push it back down, well, Anders was still just a man, and a man had needs.

So eventually he pushed the chair away and laid down on the bed and began to fondle himself. He was in the blue house robes he wore when he wasn’t working, and they were comfortable and soft and warm, and he felt very relaxed as he did the deed, and oh, it was nice to feel relaxed every so often. It was so difficult these days.

He thought of Hawke as he stroked his cock, because of course he did. He always did when she wasn’t around and Anders had to pleasure himself. Maker’s breath, she had been his go-to fantasy for years, even well before they were together. The first time he’d done it, it had been a guilty thrill. She’d been flirting with him for a few weeks, and he’d been deflecting all her remarks (all of which were so _desperately_ endearing), although as he returned alone to his clinic that evening he started to get the idea that he was fighting a losing battle. A fact that his baser instincts apparently agreed with, because he couldn’t get her out of his head, and that night, in the dark, only half undressed, he desperately touched himself while he thought of all the things he wanted to do to Hawke, and likewise all the things he wanted her to do to him. He thought of pinning her against the wall in his clinic, perhaps, and just doing it there, _right there_ , where all of Darktown could see if they walked in; he thought of _her_ being the one to pin _him_ to the wall, or perhaps push him down onto the table; he thought of them clawing desperately at each others’ clothes while she smiled that mischievous smile she had and whispered naughty things into his ear and he thought of biting her neck and shoulders in return; all things he wanted, _wanted_ so much to do but of course could never _let_ himself do, but oh it made for a nice fantasy and the twinge of guilt he felt only made it that much hotter and he didn’t know when the last time was that he’d reached climax so fast from touching himself.

So he thought of her again the next night, and the night after, and the night after. His fantasies got increasingly detailed and increasingly salacious, and it was always very satisfying, but despite it all it always ended in hopeless pining and clinging to his pillow and wishing it was her. He thought it was probably kind of pathetic, that his physical longing was also emotional longing, and Justice told him more than once that she was a distraction and that he needed to forget about her. And he wished he could, but that wasn’t going to happen, so instead he continued to fantasize about her night after night until one day the dam broke and he nearly did shove her against the wall and she nearly did claw at his clothes, all right there in the clinic, and that night was the first of many where he didn’t have to think about Hawke alone because he _had_ her and all was right with the world.

But sometimes… sometimes she wasn’t there. She was out late, or Anders was bored. And that’s when he would think of Hawke, again, like he would months ago before they had each other. But at least there was less pining at the end, and that was something.

So he rubbed one out and thought of Hawke. He thought of the way they moved together under the sheets and then he thought of his one his favorite go-to fantasies, which involved being restrained while Hawke did whatever she wanted-- a shocking thought, to be sure, that the man who spent his life fighting for freedom also enjoyed being thoroughly subdued in the bedroom, but somehow that just made it all the better. He was in the midst of imagining up such a scenario when he was shaken from his reverie by the sound of steps heading up the stairs. They were familiar steps, which is why he slowed what he was doing rather than stopping entirely, and when Hawke opened the door he had a rather devilish look on his face as he looked up with her, one hand wrapped around his cock. “Fancy seeing you here, love,” he said.

Hawke smiled back at him wickedly, and _Maker he loved when she did that_ , and said, “Bored?”

“A bit,” said Anders. He was playfully pretending to be innocent, as though he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “You weren’t here, so…”

“Mmm.” Hawke shed her armor and slipped into her robes, taking her time as she did so, and it drove Anders wild.

“But now you _are_ here,” he said sensually, “Perhaps you could help me with my… little problem.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Hawke teased. She had her robes on, now, and she slid onto the bed next to Anders, and he moved towards her, eyes dark-- but she moved away. “Ah ah!” she said, holding up a finger.

“Ah… ah?” Anders stopped and looked at her quizzically.

“Well… I just suppose… maybe, since you’ve already started, you should finish,” said Hawke. She had that look on her face that she got, sometimes, when she wanted to _play_ in bed, and while Anders didn’t quite know what she had planned, he was very willing to try it.

“I see,” he said. “How do you like to see me, then? Like this?” He leaned back against the pillows, his hand gently stroking the base of his dick. He had never thought he looked particularly attractive, but Hawke seemed to think he was, and that was good enough for him.

“I like that,” Hawke purred. She leaned over, her eyes taking in all of Anders, and he thought that he might melt under her gaze, albeit in a good way. “Touch yourself for me” she said suddenly. 

Oh, _that_ was what he liked to hear. He eagerly obeyed, and going through the familiar motions was so, so much more exciting now that Hawke was watching. He hoped he was pleasing her as his breathing became more erratic and little mews of pleasure escaped his lips.

A few moments later, Hawke shifted herself on the bed so she was closer to him, and she pulled him close so his back was against her chest. Anders shuddered with the anticipation that she might help him along, and he slowed his hand, but Hawke apparently had an idea in mind that was different from his own. She nibbled his ear, gently, and whispered “Well? Keep going.”

Anders couldn’t even be disappointed. If anything, this was all even more arousing than he was expecting. He squirmed into Hawke’s arms as she held him and she whispered naughty things into his ear about how she was going to make him come not once, but _twice_ without even touching his cock once. And that _twice_ bit got Anders worked up-- sort of, because by this point he was too far gone to pay much attention to what Hawke was even saying. She breathed into his ear, told him how beautiful he was and that he was hers, and with a gasp he shuddered and cried out and came, and then he collapsed into Hawke’s chest, feeling sated and more worn out that he had any right to be after simply masturbating. “Mmm,” he murmured when he could finally talk again. “You shouldn’t be so good at that. It’s not fair to the rest of us.”

“You’re saying it’s unjust?” Hawke teased him, burying her nose into Anders’ neck and breathing in his warm scent.

“I am,” Anders chuckled. Reluctantly he pulled himself away from Hawke’s embrace. “I should clean up,” he said.

“You should,” said Hawke. “But then come right back, because I’m not done with you yet.”

Right, Anders remembered what she’d been saying to him now. Something about making him come _twice_. That was intriguing. He stood and wiped himself clean with a towel, and behind him Hawke stood up as well and began to rummage around in the dresser. When Anders turned around to face her, Hawke surprised him by gently pushing him against the wall. Whatever she’d gotten out of the dresser was on the bed, but Anders couldn’t see it from his vantage point. His vision, instead, was filled with Hawke, and frankly that was a view he was okay with. She had him pinned to the wall and she kissed him forcefully, and he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her eagerly in return. The fabled grey warden stamina meant many things, but right now its most important feature was that he could usually bring himself to full arousal twice in quick succession, and he let Hawke take him there as she planted kisses down his neck and along his collarbone and he gasped into her hair. “You’re eager,” he said.

“And you missed me while I was gone,” Hawke purred into his neck. “That much was obvious when I walked in the door, at least.”

“I always miss you,” said Anders. He kissed her forehead, then, and slid his hands up her sides to her shoulders, ready to remove her robe, but Hawke tutted him. “Not like that,” she said. “Not this time. Turn around.”

Anders eagerly did what he was told, turning around so he was facing the wall. His erection was back and nagging him, and he was very keen for Hawke to do whatever she had planned. Fortunately for him, he didn’t have to wait long. Hawke went to the bed, gathered whatever she had there, and when she returned she gently removed Anders’ robe. After it dropped to the floor, she kissed his shoulderblades. “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to,” she said.

“Oh? And what are we doing?” Anders was starting to get an idea, and it was one he was very much okay with, but he didn’t want to guess prematurely, in case he ended up being wrong.

“I was thinking…” Hawke ran her hands down Anders’ long back to his ass, and he trembled at her touch, “...that perhaps I could try fucking _you_ , this time.”

 _Yes_. That was exactly what Anders was hoping for. He had dropped hints before, once or twice, that it was something he was interested in, and Hawke had reciprocated the interest and told him teasingly that someday they would try it. If that day had arrived, then Anders was more than happy to give it a shot. “I thought you’d never ask, love,” he said. He was still facing the wall, and his cock was aching for attention, but he trusted Hawke to take care of him.

She was gently massaging his entrance with one lubricated finger, now, and Anders was nearly whimpering with desire. “Hands on the wall,” said Hawke suddenly.

Anders realized he must’ve been subconsciously inching his hands toward his dick. “A cruel mistress,” he murmured playfully, but he obliged and put his hands on the wall. Hawke was still massaging him and she slipped a finger inside, then two-- and Anders was squirming against the wall, now, moaning as Hawke hit his sweet spot over and over. “Marian,” he breathed.

“I haven’t started yet,” Hawke chuckled, but she pushed the thick cock that she was wearing up to him and he tensed in anticipation.

Then Hawke paused.

Anders whined. “Marian,” whimpered. “I… aahhh.” She pushed inside him, and he gasped.

“Is this good?” Hawke asked him.

“Very,” said Anders enthusiastically.

That was all the encouragement Hawke needed, and she started to thrust. Anders let out a little cry, and then another, because oh, this was glorious. This was so much better than Hawke’s fingers or his own playing. Over and over Hawke thrusted, and Anders felt her breathing on his neck and her arms around his waist, and he felt thoroughly dominated, thoroughly owned, and thoroughly _loved_. He clawed at the wall, making unending noises of pleasure, and Hawke bit down on his neck, still thrusting into him and hitting that spot that made him see stars over and over.

It was all too much, too much, there was only so much of this Anders could take, and he arched his back and let out a cry and gasped something that was maybe Hawke’s name or maybe some sort of invocation to the Maker, and he came for the second time that night, just as Hawke said he would, without her even touching his cock.

He felt very limp and very spent, and it was all he could do not to fall backwards into Hawke’s arms. She had him, though, she was pressed all the way inside him and she was holding him, propping him up, breathing him in. She kissed his shoulder. “How was that?”

“Incredible,” Anders choked out. He was having trouble breathing. “Thank you,” he managed to add, at last.

Hawke kissed him, again, and gave him a moment to collect himself, and then she pulled out. No sooner had she done so when Anders turned and nearly tackled her, pressing her down onto the bed as he kissed her desperately. He pulled away, finally, and she was grinning up at him, her hair askew and her eyes sparkling. “Don’t tell me you’re already up for a third round,” she teased.

“Not quite.” Anders gazed at her lovingly. “But I will be. Soon. After I tend to you.”

“Sounds like a date,” said Hawke, and she reached up and pulled him down to her again.

**Author's Note:**

> find me @ tumblr for shitposting galore - http://pikestaff.tumblr.com


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